A Complete Guide to World Domination for Dummies
by Anozira
Summary: SH22: A crime wave hits New London's Biochemical engineering plant and its up to Holmes and Lestrade to stop it. Now with a new and improved title! CHAPTER 8 IS UP!
1. The stakeout

_For those of you who read my last SH22 story, this is not exactly a sequel, its just a random idea that popped into my head while I was watching Hitchhikers' Guide_ _yesterday. As with the last story, Lestrade is the narrator. Please be sure to review and tell me what you think!_

Disclaimer: I don't own SH22 or any of the characters. Please don't sue me! All I have is a copy of _The Annotated Sherlock Holmes_ and a stuffed moose named Penelope

World Domination for Dummies

Chapter 1: The Stakeout

"This is, without a doubt, the _worst_ idea you've ever had, Holmes."

"Oh do stop complaining, Lestrade. Our position is perfect."

We were crouched behind a pile of rubble at a small shuttle station in the heart of New London. The station's purpose was to provide an emergency resting place for craft headed to the Moon and beyond, and was rarely used.

"I fail to see how sitting on the freezing ground in this zedded place with my ionizer pointed at nothing is going to solve the case."

"Have patience, Lestrade." Holmes was scanning the sky, his keen eyes narrowed in concentration. I repositioned myself so that a bit of disassembled space ship no longer dug into my side and turned my gaze towards the sky.

"What exactly are we looking for?"

"That!" Holmes exclaimed, pointing to a small silver craft that was flying low over the buildings. It landed smoothly on the runway, and I prepared for action, raising my ionizer.

"Wait," Holmes commaned, placing a hand on my arm.

"More waiting?" I groaned inwardly. _What on earth are we waiting for?_

Holmes held up a finger and moved his head so that he was whispering directly into my ear. I shivered involuntarily at the feel of his breath on my face. "Listen," he said.

I turned my attention to the sounds of New London at night. Soon I could hear the sound that his ears had already picked up, a buzz of a hovercar filled the air, approaching fast.

It zoomed into view, piloted by a man I didn't recognize. He landed the hovercar nose to nose with the space craft and flashed the headlights twice. Both the door of the space craft and the door of the hover car opened simultaneously and a man stepped out of each. The pilot of the space craft was familiar to me. "Harry Dean is in on this?" I wondered aloud. Dean was on the top of New Scotland Yard's most wanted list for drug trafficking. "I wasn't aware that he'd expanded his activities to other types of smuggling."

"Apparently so," Holmes nodded.

As we watched, the two men spoke. The pilot of the hovercar gestured widely while Dean shook his head, his arms crossed. At last, the hovercar pilot handed over a briefcase to Dean and Dean went back into the craft. He appeared three minutes later followed by a henchman, each carrying a large stack of crates. They loaded their cargo into the trunk of the hovercar.

"Fire your ionizer at the trunk as soon as they shut it." Holmes commanded. I did so, ignoring the fact that he was giving me a lot of direct orders. _And me his superior officer!_ The hovercar pilot ran towards us while Dean retreated back towards his craft. Holmes broke cover at a run, headed for Dean while I stood up holding my ionizer pointed at the hovercar pilot, covering Holmes.

"Freeze, nobody move." I shouted in the general direction of the two craft. The pilot continued to run. I fired a warning shot at a point just above his head. "I said FREEZE!"

At that exact moment, something exploded to the right side of my head and I jumped. The hovercar pilot stopped running, holding his hands in the air.

"Are you alright, Lestrade?" Holmes asked. He was holding Dean's arm firmly. Dean's hand was still clutched around his ionizer.

"You are all under arrest," I proclaimed to all present, angry at the singed hole in a perfectly good uniform.

"I think Greyson will be particularly happy to see you, sir," Holmes said to the man who had followed Dean out of the space craft. He had been trying to sneak away during the struggle. "Lestrade, meet Michael Phelps, one of the most devious smugglers New London has ever seen. But you've let your greed cloud your judgment, my good man. If you open the trunk, Lestrade, you will find the seemingly innocent crates of canned vegetables are actually filled with stolen lunar crystals."

"You insolent meddler, Holmes, I'll teach you to stick your long nose in other people's affairs!" Phelps ran at Holmes, catching him unawares and Holmes was knocked to the ground. He pulled Phelps with him and they struggled for the ionizer that Phelps had produced. I held my own ionizer at the ready, but because of the tangled struggle I didn't have a clear shot. Phelps's ionizer flew into the air in response to a well-placed knock from Holmes's cane. At the same time, Holmes cried out and fell back, clutching his arm.

I handcuffed the man I was holding onto and started running, shouting, "I'm coming, Holmes!" Phelps had kicked away Holmes's cane and stood above him with the ionizer, ready to fire.

"No!" I aimed my own ionizer at Phelps's chest, but before I could fire, Holmes vaulted off the ground executing a perfect back hand spring. Phelps was taken completely by surprise, spinning around when Holmes landed behind him, collecting the cane where it had fallen. Holmes dealt Phelps a hefty blow to the head, stunning him momentarily. I hurriedly put handcuffs on both Phelps and Dean, bundling them into the hovercar with their accomplice.

I turned to Holmes who was recovering from his acrobatic feat, looking slightly dazed. He clutched his right forearm tightly. "All set, Holmes. Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes. Just a bit of a scratch," he replied gallantly. His voice was strained and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

"Holmes, you're sweating and its so cold outside I can feel my blood freezing, let me see."

"Let me be, I'm fine." He said angrily turning away from me and walking towards the hovercar. He was always such a baby when it came to injury. He hated to admit that he was fallible in any way, especially physically.

I caught up with him and grabbed his arm, forcing him to release his hold on it. His hand came away to reveal a nasty jagged wound. It had turned his entire sleeve red and I could see bits of metal embedded deep in the skin.

"Zed, Holmes! That's one heck of a scratch. What did he get you with, a rusty nail?"

"A bit of siding from the ship" he mumbled.

"Do you have a hankerchief?" He handed it to me and I pressed it to the wound, tying it with a bit of cord from the rubble heap we'd hid behind. "That should keep you from losing too much blood while we take these guys back to New Scotland Yard. If you feel like you're going to pass out, warn me Holmes."

He pulled his arm away from me impatiently. "I am not about to wilt at your feet, kindly stop fussing."

"Stop being a baby and I'll stop fussing." I replied and got into the driver's seat of the hover car Dean's buddy had driven to the scene earlier. _Still don't even know his name_, I thought briefly.

_Ok, so here's the deal. The more reviews I get, the quicker I'll get the next chapter written. So if you wanna find out what happens next, _

_REVIEW!_


	2. mandatory first aid

_Well, I'm back. Sorry it took so long, but the demons that inhabit my computer decided to be difficult. If you're angry about the delay, take it up with them._

_Thanks to all reviewers. You asked for more, so here it is. I'm trying madly to get this story done before my summer job starts up. I'm acting in a show this summer (YAY!) Which means I have sold my soul to the theater gods and won't have much time for writing. I'll update as quickly as I can. Hey, I still have 2 weeks..._

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century, nor do I own the characters. The only thing I do own is the title. I'm proud of it, don't steal it. (thanks to the writers of the "dummies" books for lots of profitable reading and a great title idea)

"Stop moving around, Holmes, and let me clean that wound!" Holmes, obstinate as ever, pulled his arm from my grasp and walked away from me to stand in front of the fireplace. He leaned on the mantle casually, but I could tell he put a great deal more weight on it than usual. He was sweating and shaking almost imperceptibly. _Classic signs of shock_ I diagnosed, thinking back to the years of health classes forced on me in High School. "You can't just expect it to heal itself. It will get infected and you'll end up having to spend weeks in bed instead of submitting to a few minutes of relatively painless first aid."

"The mind, I have found, has extraordinary power to block out pain from minor injuries. I do not need your ministrations, kindly leave me alone."

I laughed outright at his outrageous statement. "Well, you try and use that amazing brain of yours to heal yourself while I find Watson's first aid kit." I opened the compartment in the desk where I knew I had seen the long white box with the red cross etched on it, taking it with me back to the fireplace. "You have all the symptoms of shock, which tells me that this hole in your arm is more serious than you make it out to be. So shut up and sit down." I prodded him away from the mantle and pushed him into a chair.

He sat limply in the chair, finally allowing me to remove the makeshift bandage I had put over the cut an hour ago to stop the bleeding. His handkerchief was soaked through and it would be hopeless to try and remove the stain. I threw it on the fire and turned my attention to the wound in his arm. It spanned the length of his forearm, from the elbow to the wrist, a jagged open wound. Thankfully, it was relatively shallow, barely more than a surface wound. It didn't seem to have penetrated into the muscle too deeply. The only thing I worried about was extreme loss of blood due to the wound's placement over several arteries that were rather close to the surface. Luckily, the flow of blood seemed to have stopped, for the most part. I cleaned the cut with some alcohol, ignoring the hissing sound Holmes made when I applied it, and replaced the handkerchief and cord bandage with more conventional gauze and tape.

"There, now that wasn't so bad, was it?" I patted his shoulder as he snorted and turned away from me. "Alright, fine. Go ahead and pout. I'm going down to talk to Watson."

"He's at the Yard for upgrades," Holmes said quietly, his voice slightly hoarse. _He must be in more pain than he's letting on to._

"Oh." I turned back towards his chair, speaking to the back of his head. "Is there anything else you'd like, Holmes? A painkiller?"

"Stop fussing, woman!" He retorted angrily, "I am perfectly fine. I do not need your sympathy or your care." He stood up abruptly. "I am going to bed now, good night. I shall see you in the morning to help with the obligatory paperwork." He took a few slow steps towards his room before he stopped, swaying slightly. I moved quickly and caught him as he sank to the floor.

"I told you to warn me if you thought you were going to pass out."

"I'm not going to pass out." His attempt at annoyance was made wholly ineffective by the tremor in his voice and the alarmingly pale color his skin had become.

"Let's get you in bed, Holmes. You aren't looking so good." I helped him up and allowed him to lean on me as we headed for the bedroom door, but it was awkward trying to support almost all the weight of a man at least a head taller than me. "Actually, you may have to settle for the couch."

After depositing Holmes on the couch with a pillow and a quilt, I moved towards the door. "Are you leaving?" He asked. _Did I imagine it or does he sound like he doesn't want me to leave?_

"Nope, I'll only be gone a few minutes." He said nothing, but I was sure that he looked relieved.

I returned a few minutes later with a mug in my hand. "Here, drink this."

"What is it?" He eyed it suspiciously.

"It's warm milk. Drink it, it'll help you sleep." He looked at me with a strange expression in his eyes. "Its not poisoned, I promise. If I wanted to kill you, I'd have done so by now." He chuckled as I sat down on the arm of the couch and handed him the mug. He sipped it gingerly.

"This is not just milk." He said matter of factly. _Zed, nothing gets past him! How the heck did his mother manage to slip him medicine?_ "You're too observant for your own good. There's a little valerian in there too. It's an herb that helps you sleep. I found some in the kitchen, so I took the liberty of adding a little to the milk so that you might actually stay in one place for longer than an hour. You need a good night's sleep."

"Thank you so much, nanny," he replied sarcastically. I rolled my eyes and stood up.

"You're impossible, I quit! Let the arm rot off for all I care, work yourself to exhaustion. But rest assured, when you collapse, I'll be there when you wake up telling you I told you so."

"It's a good thing you are not a doctor. Your bedside manner is atrocious."

"Well your invalid manner is even worse. Good night, Holmes." I turned towards the door, but his voice stopped me just as I put a hand on the handle.

"Lestrade." The tone he used startled me enough that I turned around to see if I had just imagined it. He looked up at me sheepishly from his position on the couch. "Would you do me a great service and fetch me the blanket from my bed? I believe I will be spending the night on the couch." Wordlessly, I went into his room and took the pillow and blanket from his bed. Returning to the room, I found that he had shifted himself so that he was more or less stretched along the length of the couch. He was too tall and his feet hung over one side. I laughed at the comic picture and he glared at me.

"Thank you," he said quietly as I slipped the pillow under his head and covered him with the blanket.

"No problem, Holmes." I turned towards the door again, and then on an impulse I turned back. "You know, Holmes, injury is not a sign of weakness. You are human, and you can't avoid the fact that once in a while your body is going to have difficulty keeping up with that excellent brain of yours. You aren't a compudroid and no one expects you to be one, so let yourself slow down once in a while. You work yourself too hard."

As I finished my speech, I noticed he was looking at me very strangely. "What's the matter? Am I growing another head? Are you astonished that I don't want to have to get Hargreaves to bring you back from the dead a _second_ time? Do you have any idea how long that takes?"

He laughed and shook his head. "I was merely marveling at how odd the world is sometimes. For a minute, you sounded exactly like Watson. John Watson, not his mechanical counterpart. He said something very similar to me once, I recall."

I shrugged my shoulders. "How weird, people actually care about you and don't want you to hurt yourself."

"There's no call for sarcasm."

"Holmes, for once in your lives will you take someone else's advice and go to sleep?" I strode resolutely towards the door. "This time I'm really leaving. Good Night."

The sound of his voice saying "Good night" followed me down the stairs and out the door. As I got into my hovercar, I suddenly remembered the sound of his voice when he had stopped me at the door. All he had said was my name, but it sounded more emotional than anything he'd ever said to me before. Had I imagined it? Had Holmes really not wanted me to leave? I tried to remember the expression on his face when I turned around, but all I could remember was the sheepish smile when he'd asked for a favor. For a moment, though, I was certain that I saw something more genuine there, somethingI couldn't quite define. I smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand. "Its _way_ past my bed time, I'm hallucinating," I told the steering wheel.

At that moment, my wristcom buzzed into life and Greyson appeared on the tiny screen. "Lestrade, get over here now!"

"Is something wrong chief?" _Oh no, there goes my decent night's sleep._

"Of course something's wrong! What do you think this is, a social call?"

"What is it?" I asked brusquely. Greyson seemed even angrier than usual, it must be serious.

"Come down to the station asa-immediately, there's something you need to see. And bring that deceased detective."

"Holmes is recovering from an injury he won't be going anywhere tonight. What's so important?"

"Well, either you bagged the wrong smugglers, or lunar crystals look strangely similar to machinery."

"WHAT!"

"Get down here IMEDIATELY, Lestrade. That's an order!"

I stared in disbelief at the blank screen. It was impossible, we'd tracked those guys from the moon. Could they have switched the cargo on us? Holmes was wrong? Why would a smuggler risk his life defending worthless cargo? It made no sense! I turned my hovercar around and sped towards New Scotland Yard while my brain worked at the speed of light to figure out what piece we had left out of the puzzel.

_Thanks to the reviewers. You asked for more and I delivered. Tell me what you think. More action in the next chapter, and an explanation. No more cliffhangers, I promise (at least for a little while...I think...)_

REVIEW!


	3. Surprise!

_Well, here it is at last…Chapter Three! Wow, this has gotten great reviews Thanks to everyone who reviewed, your cries for more have been heard. I tried so hard to update this summer, but between working 12 hour days at the theater and a dial-up internet connection (oh horror) It never happened. Sorry guys. I'm back at school now so updates may come sooner… I hope …_

_See Chapter One for disclaimer_

Chapter 3: Surprise!

As I arrived at the station, I debated again calling Holmes, knowing he would come running, injury or no injury. Again, I decided to let him sleep. Maybe there would be a simple solution to the problem. Maybe…

"Took you long enough to get here."

"Sorry Chief, I was over at Baker street."

"Where is that moth-eaten P.I.?"

"Getting some much deserved sleep. What's going on?" I could tell that the problem was serious, the chief inspector was even redder in the face than usual.

"You've bagged a trio of smugglers that fill their crates with harmless machinery!"

"No machinery is completely harmless, I assure you chief inspector." I turned around more than a little startled by the sound of a self-assured English voice behind me.

"Holmes! What…how…where on earth…?"

"You are very articulate Lestrade. I happened to be watching you leave my residence when you received a transmition on your wristcom. What ever it was, it rattled you enough that you made a very sloppy take-off in your hovercar. You are not an excellent driver," he quirked an eyebrow at me and I restrained myself from throwing something. After all, he already had one injury. "But you do usually manage to avoid inanimate objects when not in the middle of a high-speed chase, and this evening you nearly ran into a lamppost. Since you only receive calls from me or New Scotland Yard on your wristcom, I inferred that it must be the latter and I followed you here. Am I correct in deducing that the matter is quite serious?"

"The chief claims that the cargo we took from our smugglers is full of worthless bits of machinery, not lunar crystals. Did we get the wrong guys?"

"I am certain that the men we captured are the guilty party. We must have misjudged their mission."

"So the great detective does make mistakes after all?" The chief's voice was full of sarcasm and delight. On a certain level, I could completely understand why the chief loved to rub Holmes's mistakes in his nose. Keeping Holmes humble was not an easy task, and he wasn't often wrong. The chief, however, was not subtle about his dislike of Holmes's tendency to humiliate the Yard.

Holmes glanced at me and rolled his eyes. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing when he turned to the Chief Inspector with exaggerated civility.

"Perhaps you would be so good as to relate what exactly my mistake happened to be?"

"I'll do better than that, Mr. Holmes. I'll show you."

We followed the chief inspector down a series of hallways leading to the secure section in the center of New Scotland Yard. After punching a complicated series of codes into a keypad and pressing a finger to the fingerprint recognizer, the thick metallic door slid open and we were in the heart of New Scotland Yard, the most protected place in New London.

"Come right this way, Mr. Detective, and let me show you your valuable cargo." The chief waved his hand dramatically at a pile of crates in a corner of the room. "Have a look, Mr. Holmes, Lestrade, and tell me why your precious smugglers are so interested in computer bits!"

Holmes gingerly lifted the lid of the top crate, and sure enough, it was filled with disassembled parts of machinery, microchips, tangled wires, and pieces of scrap metal had been carelessly thrown together in the crate. Holmes knelt on one knee to inspect the contents with his magnifying glass.

"Why did they make no attempt to disguise the stolen goods?" I asked, kneeling beside him. The chief answered from behind me.

"Because they're worthless, Lestrade. A complete bust, the whole thing!" He continued to mumble angrily until Holmes interrupted him, opening the other crates as he talked.

"This is no mere machinery, chief inspector, these are the inner workings of highly sophisticated robots, very valuable on the black market. The right buyer would pay literally millions for the contents of this crate alone."

"How do you know they're from a sophisticated robot?" I asked doubtfully. Holmes has a habit of pulling facts out of mid air, and it always pays to make him explain his deductions. After all, he does make mistakes.

"The quality of the workmanship. See how the joints have been fused together carefully instead of the less expensive, and far less time consuming nuts and bolts? The purpose is to create an invincible seam, one that will not give way under pressure. I believe a closer inspection of these microchips would reveal some interesting things about the robots these parts were intended to create."

"There can't be very many full-sized robots in these crates." I picked up one of the larger bits of metal. There wasn't much sheet metal in the crates. Where was the protective shell to cover the wires and computer chips?

"No." He agreed. He stood and stared at the contents in silence, then narrowed his eyes. "We need a computer expert. Lestrade, summon the irregulars."

"See here, Mr. Holmes, I won't have a bunch of kids in the high security section of New Scotland Yard in the middle of the night!"

"No, perhaps you're right. Very well, it can wait until morning." He turned began to walk purposefully towards the door."

"Holmes…"

"Take a couple pictures of the contents, Lestrade, we'll inspect them on our leisure. For now, we have the crates and the smugglers. We shall use our advantage to find the end of the thread that will untangle this mystery."

I followed him out, and the sputtering chief inspector closed the door behind us as we headed back towards outside world.

"I believe I shall leave the hovercoach here for Watson to drive back after the techies have finished buffing him up. Will you be so good as to drive me back to Baker Street."

"Certaintly, Holmes."

At Baker Street, Holmes paused as he began to shut the car door. "There is some deeper plan, behind this Lestrade. A devious mastermind is at work."

I frowned and stared at the steering wheel. It had been so quiet in New London lately, barely a rumble from the criminal classes. Had they been preparing for something big? Another crime wave?

"Alert the irregulars and meet me here tomorrow morning," Holmes instructed, "The game is most definitely afoot." With that ambiguous statement, he shut the door to the car and disappeared into the house

"But why would someone fill a bunch of crates with stolen computer parts without bothering to disguise them?" Diedre wondered between loud slurps of tea.

"And if the parts are stolen, where did they come from? There hasn't been a single robbery for the past month and a half!" Wiggins pointed out through his mouthful.

"Excellent questions to ask. When we know the answers we will be far closer to solving the mystery." Holmes, of course, was lucid as ever despite the fact that he had sustained a severe injury, gotten very little sleep, and had yet to take anything into his body besides a few sips of coffee.

We were gathered around the breakfast table at 221B with cups of coffee and muffins Watson had hurriedly whipped up that morning. I'll never understand how Watson's last minute muffins taste better than the coffee cake I slave over for days, but that's beside the point. Wiggins, Deidre and Tennyson had skipped school for the day to puzzle over our latest problem.

"Beep whirr beep buz buz"

"Yes, Tennyson, I believe you're right." Holmes leaned back with a satisfied smile on his face, staring at me expectantly and I was forced to admit that I was lost.

"What the zed is going on?" Eloquent, aren't I?

"You're mind is wandering, Lestrade, focus! We were just discussing the photographs you took. Tennyson suggests that the parts present seem to be the inner workings of a robot rather than a complete, disassembled prototype, a sort of mechanical brain if you will. I think it's highly likely, especially considering that the number of robots represented in our smugglers cargo would become considerably larger."

"Well, that could be true. But why collect robot brains? To sell on the black market? And Wiggins is right, there hasn't been a major robbery or burglary in New London or the moon for weeks. Who could have backed such an operation?"

"Someone with substantial funds, certainly, and a devious mind. These smugglers are no more the whole picture than those parts are a complete robot. This is only one stage in a much larger, more dangerous plot. It has been carefully planed and cleverly executed." Holmes stood up and went to the fireplace, taking his old pipe from on top of the mantle. He chewed on the stem and stared out the window meditatively. Even Sherlock Holmes isn't above the law, however, and his pipe remained empty. He often complained that parliament obviously didn't have enough to do if it insisted on banning harmless products like tobacco. No amount of persuasion would convince him that tobacco wasn't harmless.

"Lestrade!" Holmes angrily cut through my thoughts. _My mind is wandering again. Why can't I focus today?_

"I'm sorry, Holmes, I was thinking about something else."

"Try to focus on the problem at hand, we must come up with a new course of action."

"Well, what will our mastermind do now that his­ henchmen have been captured and his robots confiscated?" With an effort I brought my mind back to the case.

"Won't he do something to try and get his plan back on track?"

"He most certaintly will. Yes, Wiggins I believe that is the best course of action."

"What is?" Diedre asked, with a puzzled expression on her face. Thank goodness someone else was just as confused as I was.

"We will wait for our villain to retaliate. His next move will show us more of his intentions. If we can't decipher the mastermind's strategy, we will simply wait for him to reveal his hand."

"Is there something we can do in the meantime?"

"I am afraid there is nothing to do but wait and prepare. We need more data."

I could feel my brain rebel against Holmes's suggestion. I can handle pressure, stress, and danger, but I can't stand waiting. I've never seen much point in allowing the enemy to move first, it seems almost unnecessarily risky. The truth is, though, it can be a very useful stratagem and Holmes used it often. He preferred to wait for a criminal to make a mistake and then attack suddenly and swiftly like a bird of prey diving for a mouse. The most aggravating thing about it is that Holmes has this amazing ability to completely remove himself from a case, an ability I completely lack. No, it was not going to be an easy day.

_A/N: I should dedicate this to Lady Razorsharp. Thanks for your great reviews. They made me very happy._


	4. The Plot Thickens

_Well, I'm back. I appologise whole heartedly to all the readers of this story, I got very busy and, well, stopped writing. However, I hope to bring you much more regular updates now. Thanks again to all the reviewers, you've all been great! So, without further ado, on to the chapter._

Chapter 4: The Plot Thickens

The energy level at the Yard was high as usual. People and robots were moving purposefully, somehow avoiding getting in each other's way as they worked to "keep Britain safe" I, however, sat in my office doing crossword puzzles and wishing I was out shooting something. Anything.

It had been nearly a week since Sherlock Holmes had decided to wait for his "mastermind" to make the next move. In that time I had had 6 dinners at 221B and one at Simpson's, Holmes' favorite restaurant both in the Victorian Age and in the Information Age. At every dinner, we compared notes, Holmes, Watson, the Irregulars, and I. And each time no one had anything helpful to add to the case. Today was going to be no different, I was certain. Just another pointless day spent listening to news on demand and trying to unlock the secrets of the newest crossword puzzle.

Suddenly Holmes flashed onto my computer screen. "Good Morning Lestrade. How's the Yard?"

"Business as usual, Holmes." He snorted into the cup of coffee he was holding.

"Yes, Lestrade, I'm sure the citizens of London would feel safer if they knew you had finished your latest crossword puzzle."

I decided not to reply to this remark. Hey, I find them relaxing, and when you work closely with Holmes you need something to de-stress yourself. _Why do brilliant men have to be so zedding infuriating? There's a fine, fine line between genius and insanity, my dear Holmes. _"Anything new on the case?"

"Not yet"

"Holmes, how long is this waiting going to go on? Before too long those guys we caught are going to be released for lack of evidence and we'll be right back where we started."

"No, Lestrade, we will be considerably further than where we started, thanks to our examination of those cargo crates. We know two important things about our criminal that we did not know before. First, he is technologically, and probably mathematically minded, as he is highly familiar with the latest breakthroughs in robotics. Secondly, whatever his plan is, it involves an enormous number of incredibly sophisticated, and probably extremely dangerous robots."

"Sounds like Moriarty's trying to take over the world again"

"Yes it does, doesn't it?"

"Is that your current theory? Can we just go and lock Moriarty up?"

"Never theorize without evidence Lestrade. And you know very well that we cannot arrest Moriarty without a crime to accuse him of. We need more evidence, hence we must wait. It will not be long; he will make a move soon."

"Then you know its Moriarty"

"I do not know anything. I suspect."

"Fine." I glandced at the clock. _I spend my life waiting, and you want me to do more of it? Fine. I'll wait. I'll wait for Moriarty to "make his move", for the Yard to give me something important to investigate, for you to…Zed._ I stopped in the middle of my train of thought to stare in disbelief at my crossword puzzle. _What kind of a clue is, "My, French, primate opens doors."?_ The screen made a noise and I realized that Holmes was still there

"Did you call for a reason? Or just to annoy me?"

"Largely to annoy you. I will leave you to your Yard work."

"Good pun" I rolled my eyes and went back to the cross word without hanging up. "Say, Holmes, you wouldn't happen to know what 6-letter word 'My, French, primate opens doors' refers to, would you?"

"Monkey," He said almost immediately

"I hate you" I said as I wrote it in. Why did he always know? Why couldn't he just be stumped once in a while? Sometimes Holmes could be incredibly aggravating.

"I leave you to your work, then."

"You'll tell me if something important happens?"

"Of course, you'll be the first to know if a new clue comes along."

"Likewise. Talk to you soon." _Hopefully. If I have to wait much more I think I'll build my own dangerous robots and start blowing things up._

The screen went blank and I went back to my crossword. I had gotten no further than "monkey" five minutes later when news on demand flashed on the screen and the news anchor began speaking.

"Disappearance of one of New London's top biochemical engineers has New Scotland Yard stumped. News on Demand."

"More" I said, without thinking and the news anchor continued to talk in her professional monotone.

"Friends of Sir Robert Woodthorpe reported that the engineer failed to return home from work last night. Sir Robert, one of the leading biochemical engineers in England, was at work in New London's Biodome late last night, and though the object of his research is undisclosed, colleagues say he was close to a very important discovery. Friend and colleague Sir Edmund Hargreaves says, "Sir Robert was very close to a break through that would change modern science. The reason for his disappearance must be determined immediately." Scotland Yard is hard at work investigating the crime, but so far no progress has been reported."

The screen went black again and I closed my crossword puzzle reflectively. _First smugglers are caught with robots so advanced they practically have human brains. Then a biochemical engineer disappears. Suggestive._ Holmes was right, the whole thing stank of Moriarty. I was interrupted in my thoughts by a loud knock on the door to my office. The Chief Inspector had already gotten halfway into the room by the time I said, "come in"

"Lestrade, I need to see you in my office ASA-Immediately."

"Is it about the biochemical engineer? I just saw the news on demand."

"No, its about your smugglers. They've disappeared."

"What?" I turned around in my chair so suddenly it almost fell over. Gripping the arm rests I listened carefully to the chief's brief explanation.

"The smugglers with the robot parts you apprehended have escaped. Come to my office NOW." Before I could reply, the door slammed behind the chief inspector and I was alone again in the office. I called Holmes.

When he appeared on the screen, he looked a great deal less flippant than he had when I talked to him last. _Only 10 minutes ago. It seems so much longer_ I thought. Amazing what action can do to your perception of time.

"Am I to infer by your expression that you have heard the latest News On Demand concerning the biochemical engineer."

"Yes Holmes. I think your theory that Moriarty is behind this may be right. It seems exactly like something Moriarty would try and do. He reminds me of those old Pinky and the Brain cartoons from Animaniacs. 'What are we going to do today boss?' 'What we always do, Pinky, try and take over the world.'"

Holmes looked at me like I had gone insane. Of course, he wouldn't be familiar with twentieth century cartoons. Only dorks like me knew about those.

"Sorry, Holmes, ancient pop culture reference. I think you should come down to the Yard. I'm meeting with Grayson _asa-immediately_ as he says." I put the saying in quotes with my fingers and rolled my eyes.

"I'll be right there." He said definitely, and I saw him reach to disconnect himself."

"Holmes, there's more." I said quickly. His arm froze in midair.

"More?"

"Yes. According to the chief, the smugglers we arrested have escaped from New Scotland yard."

"Good lord. This is more serious than we thought." I nodded wordlessly. Perhaps waiting had been a bad idea.

"I'll be right there, Lestrade. In the meantime, alert the irregulars. Tell them to come to Baker Street. We'll fill them in after we meet the chief inspector."

"Right. Hurry up, Holmes, Grayson hates to be kept waiting."

"I'll drive like you do." He said with a ghost of a mischievous grin and disconnected.

I sat back in my chair thinking about the case. _Moriarty is definitely involved. No one else has the money or the audacity to pull off a stunt like this. Those smugglers couldn't have escaped on their own. They were in the high security unit. And then there are the robots and the biochemical engineer… This is going to be much more serious than we thought._

_A/N: The next chapter is on its way. Thanks to those who have stuck with me through these sporadic updates. Forgive me. I'm usually not this bad at updating my stories. I am determined to finish this one, though, even if it takes me a year…so stick with me. And as always, review and tell me what you think! _


	5. The Problem of the Empty Cell

_So to all of you who thought I wouldn't get another chapter out for at least another month, BAM! Here you go, 2 genuine (and rather lengthy) chapters for the price of one! As always, read and review. The powers that be are discouraging replying to reviews in the story, so I'll try and get back to you individually. Enjoy!_

Chapter 5: The Problem of the Empty Cell

The picture the three of us created would have been hilarious under different circumstances. I stood with Chief Inspector Grayson and Sherlock Holmes at the door to a perfectly ordinary cell in Scotland Yard's inner block. We were all posed in attitudes of deep concentration, staring at the walls of the room with our backs to each other. The cell was so small, however, that if any of us moved we inadvertently ran into another person. Perhaps most humorous was the fact that, although it was being investigated by two Scotland Yard inspectors and Sherlock Holmes, the room seemed to be a perfectly normal cell.

Holmes stood up from his examination of the door, gesturing towards it with his magnifying glass. "There are no signs of the door having been forced."

"There are no signs of someone forcing their way in anywhere." I amended, looking around at the pristine metal walls. They shone with a perfection that seemed unnatural to me, as if no one had been in the cell since it had been cleaned. "Has someone been in to clean this room since the escape?"

"Of course not, Lestrade, don't be ridiculous," the Chief barked.

"Perhaps not on record, but Lestrade is correct, someone has wiped the room of finger and foot prints." Holmes looked around again and Grayson regarded him with his hands on his hips.

"Oh, playing investigator, are we? Well, Mr. Holmes, this is Scotland Yard. We know how to handle our prisoners."

"And yet, two have gone missing from high security. And, Chief Inspector, I believe they were helped to escape by someone _within the Yard_."

_Zed an inside job! _It made me feel a little sick. The Yard system was supposedly impervious to infiltration. That meant that someone on the Yard payroll had turned traitor and was working for Moriarty. _Zed! _I thought again. "Holmes, are you certain?"

Holmes turned to me with an exasperated "this is perfectly obvious" look. "Look at the facts, Lestrade. There are no signs of forced entry. The room has been cleaned. No alarm was sounded. Clearly these men were helped to escape by someone inside the Yard, and someone rather high up."

"How do you know its someone high up?" I wondered out loud. Holmes turned to me and answered smoothly.

"How else could they have accomplished everything without raising the alarm? It has to be someone with the authority to release prisoners." Holmes turned to Grayson, tucking his magnifying glass away in his inverness. "Chief Inspector, I believe you have a leak. I'd suggest you question your prison officers very carefully." He turned to me. "Come Lestrade, we have other matters to look in to."

Holmes turned briskly and left. The Chief Inspector turned to me sputtering angrily, but I shrugged my shoulders and made my escape, shouting behind me, "I'll make a report up for you, Chief."

Holmes stood in the lobby chatting with the secretary. He smiled at her, releasing all of his charm on her and I wondered what he was up to. I approached the desk with what I hoped was a stern expression on my face. He turned to me before I could say anything, though.

"Ah, there you are Lestrade. I was just saying to Danielle here that it's been overly quiet in New London lately. Nothing to interest oneself in. Of course you remember those smugglers we arrested about a week ago. Well, according to Danielle, they've been released! Unbelievable, is it not?"

I smiled and nodded for the benefit of Danielle the secretary. "Yes its been very quiet. Too bad about those smugglers. You put all that work in and then they go and release them. Frustrating."  
I turned and began to head purposefully toward the door. _If you want to play the flirt, Holmes, go right ahead but don't drag me into it. I actually have principles. Well, when it comes to shameless flirting I have principles. _I stood and waited at the door knowing I must look furious. The secretary, however, seemed to think it was because of the release of the smugglers.

"I'm sorry I don't have better news for you, inspector." Danielle sighed. I nodded goodbye and put my hand on the door handle. _Come on Holmes, leave the girl and let's go._ She turned her attention to him. "Is there anything else you need Mr. Holmes?" I rolled my eyes internally. _Oh give me a break, can she be any more obvious?_

He leaned over the desk with a smile. "Nothing at all, you've been most helpful, thank you."

"You're quite welcome, I'm glad I could help. I'll see you around, Mr. Holmes"

"I shall look forward to it." He smiled and made a tip-of-the-hat type gesture and I began to feel slightly nauseous. He turned then and walked towards the door. When we were safely in my hovercar and on our way to Baker Street, I burst out with all the frustration I had been concealing. Well perhaps not concealing, exactly…

"What on earth was that?" I was quite proud of the impressive way my voice reverberated in the hovercar.

"What?" Holmes looked at me, puzzled. _Damn, he doesn't even look sheepish. _It made me even more angry.

"That chivalrous gentleman act you pulled on the secretary!"

"That was merely a ploy to get her to give us the records without any fuss about this 'confidentiality' the Yard is so fond of."

"You were shamelessly flirting with her, Holmes. That's not a very Victorian thing to do."

"Well, as you like to remind me, we are no longer in the Victorian era. Besides, Lestrade, charm is a method I employed even in my old Baker Street days. It is harmless and meaningless, I assure you. You may put your jealous mind at rest."

"I am not jealous." I mumbled.

"Of course not," he agreed, but there was a glint of mischief in his eye as he said it.

"You're impossible." I rolled my eyes to make up for the lousy come-back

"Thank you. Ah, it seems Watson was good enough to fetch the irregulars, perfect."

We entered the warmth of Baker Street and climbed the stairs to the sitting room where Diedre, Wiggins, Tennyson, and Watson all sat around the fire with mugs of tea in their hands. Watson got up and pulled two chairs up, pushing mugs of tea at Holmes and me and offering a tray of biscuits which Holmes refused. I, however, not able to live on thought alone, gladly had a biscuit and settled for what I expected to be a long discussion._ If we were out catching the bad guys instead of talking about it things would get done much faster. _And for once, Holmes seemed to agree with me.

"Something must be done immediately before things get too out of hand." Holmes said briskly.

"What's going on, Mr. Holmes?" Wiggins asked.

Holmes said nothing, he was looking at the file Danielle had handed him. I sighed and turned to the irregulars. "Briefly, the smugglers we arrested last week escaped with the help of someone inside the Yard, a leak rather high up the food chain, we think."

"How do you know?" Diedre asked. Diedre would make a very good inspector some day, she was street savvy and intelligent and she approached cases with an open mind and a distrust of anything she hadn't seen and verified for herself.

"The prison cell showed no signs of a break in and it had been cleaned. Also an alarm was never sounded. It would appear to be a perfectly normal release of a prisoner, except the Chief didn't sanction it."

"What else inspector?" Wiggins asked, leaning forward.

"I suppose you missed News on Demand at school, but one of London's top biochemical engineers has gone missing." I said.

"Along with two very important disks from the lab he was working on." Holmes added.

"What?" I turned to Holmes in astonishment.

"It's in his case file here"_ So _that_ was why he was flirting with the secretary_. He handed me the case file gravely.

"What was on the disks?" I wondered out loud. The case file said nothing about the contents of the disks, only a brief mention in the "stolen articles" section. Sometimes I despaired for the Yard.

"I'm not certain, but perhaps…" Holmes turned to his desk and dialed a number. Before I could complain about Holmes' unfinished sentence the screen on the opposite wall lit up with the face of Sir Edmund Hargreaves. _Ah, _I thought, _smart. _

Sir Edmund seemed to be in his office from the look of the room behind him. He spoke good-naturedly, surveying the room he must have been seeing on his own screen. "Good afternoon Holmes, Lestrade. And are these the irregulars I have heard so much about?"

"Indeed, Sir Edmund. Meet Wiggins, Diedre, and Tennyson, without whom I might never have solved a good number of the cases that came my way."

"Wonderful to meet you," Sir Edmund said politely. "I assume, however, that this is not a social call. What can I do for you, Mr. Holmes?"

"We need information concerning the work of the Biochemical engineer who has disappeared. His name is Sir Robert Woodthorpe."

Sir Edmund's face darkned. "I will tell you what I can, but his work is confidential."

"Sir Edmund, we believe that his disspaearance relates to a much larger case. The circumstances are literally life and death." I said sternly.

"What Lestrade is trying, rather overly dramatically, to say," I sent Holmes my best withering glare, "is that we believe someone has taken Sir Robert for a purpose not only dangerous to his person, but to all of New London as well."

"I see." Sir Edmund replied. "What is it you wish to know?"

Holmes leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and pressing his fingertips together. _Holmes' thinking pose. Some things never change, even in 200 years._ The sound of Holmes' voice broke me out of my thoughts. "When Sir Edmund was taken, two disks were stolen. I need to know what might have been on those disks. Would you have any idea?"

"Actually I do, and I see no harm in telling you. Those disks, or rather their contents, were Sir Robert's pride and joy. The first disk is a database containing information on thousands of strains of human DNA and protein, the work of 2 lifetimes of biologists, completed by Sir Robert as his graduate thesis. The other disk is a program containing the formulae necessary to artificially create tissues, a project that Sir Robert and I worked on together. These formulae were the basis for my experiment in re-animation which allowed for your…resurrection, Mr. Holmes."

"And why would a criminal want the information on these disks?"

"Because, Mr. Holmes, put together with the proper scientific knowledge, the information could be used to create an almost perfect simulation of human life. In other words, anyone with the database and the formula could create a machine that mimics human thought and emotion, the perfect robot."

"Why would that be dangerous?" Watson wondered. It was a good question, but pretty funny coming from him. I stifled my urge to chuckle.

"Not every robot would be as good as you are, my dear Watson." Holmes told him. "With this information, Moriarty would be able to create an army of robots that are loyal to him, but much more intelligent than normal robots."

"Ah I see. You're right, Holmes, that doesn't sound good." Poor Watson looked so perplexed at the thought of robots with his capabilities being used for evil. I patted his shoulder to comfort him.

"Anything more I can do for you, Mr. Holmes?" Sir Edmund asked. I had forgotten he was still there.

"How difficult would it be for Lestrade and I to get into the Biodome?"

"Very difficult. It has been locked up by the police as 'evidence.' Even people who work there cannot get in. It is quite frustrating."

"My sympathies, Sir Edmund. Thank you so much for your time and assistance."

"My pleasure, Mr. Holmes. Goodbye inspector Lestrade, Dr. Watson. Pleasure to meet you children." And with that Sir Edmund's face disappeared and the screen went black.

I sat back in my chair digesting the information he had given us. _Highly sophisticated robot brains plus a catalogue of Human DNA and the formulae for creating tissues plus Moriarty equals bad news. _

"What do you think Moriarty will do with all this information?" I asked Holmes. He didn't answer right away. Instead he took his pipe off the mantle, sucking on the empty stem. He paced up and down the length of the room twice, then turned to us, realizing I suppose that he was being closely watched by five pairs of eyes.

"I am not certain." He turned to look out the window. "I have several hypotheses, but I cannot prove a single one of them without more data." Suddenly his body twisted to face us so swiftly that his legs remained crossed when he stopped, unable to readjust in time with the rest of him. "Lestrade, we are going to the Biodome." He stated triumphantly.

"Now? But Holmes, Sir Edmund said that it would be impossible to get in." Don't get me wrong, I wanted to get in there as much as he did, but I didn't want to waste energy trying to accomplish the impossible.

"No, Lestrade, not now. We'll go tonight." He grinned and his eyes glinted with excitement. _Uh oh_, I thought, _He's got something devious planned._

"Holmes, I already don't like the sound of this," I warned. "You look like you're planning something illegal."

"Oh don't be so cautious, Lestrade," Holmes replied flippantly. "Sometimes you can be such a Yardie."

I glared at him. "I _am _a yardie, you idiot. What do you expect?" He grinned. I wondered to myself how many people had called him an idiot before. Somehow he didn't seem fazed.

Holmes shrugged his shoulders, "Of course, there are other ways to go about investigating the Biodome. We always have the option of applying to Grayson for permission. It will take several days for our request to go through, if it ever does, and by then the criminal will have escaped with the data disks and the engineer, but no matter, we'll be investigating _legally_."

_Well, I can't exactly say no to that, can I? Damn you and your powers of persuasion, Holmes._ "Alright, you win. But I don't want to know what you're planning. And we're NOT taking the irregulars." Immediately a cry of protest rose up from Diedre and Wiggins. Even Tennyson beeped unhappily.

"I am in agreement with Lestrade" Holmes said sternly, silencing the uproar. "I believe you three have homework waiting for you. Your guardians would think me a poor influence indeed if I kept you from it." This remark was greeted with a communal groan from the irregulars, but soon they were ushered out of the room by Watson, and Holmes and I were left alone. I looked over at him

"Well"

"Well" he agreed and began pacing again.

An awkward silence filled the room and I shifted in my chair uncomfortably, watching him pace back and forth. Suddenly he stopped almost directly in front of me. I was forced to crane my neck to look at his face. Deciding I hated having to look up to anyone, I stood. For a moment we stared at each other trying to read the other's thoughts and, at least on my part, not succeeding.

"Wear black," he said simply. I nodded and turned to go. As I approached the door I heard his voice again and turned towards it. "We'll meet here at 1 am."

"So late?"

"Or early, depending on your view." He smiled, "I would much rather have the place to ourselves, wouldn't you?"

I shrugged my shoulders noncommittally. "So we're breaking into the Biodome tonight, aren't we?"

"That was my plan, yes." His attitude changed quickly and he strode quickly across the room putting a hand on my shoulder. "Think very carefully about this, Lestrade. If we are caught, your career at Scotland Yard will be over. We will probably receive several years in prison. There is much to lose, and more for you than for me. If you would rather not accompany me, I will understand perfectly, and it will cause me little trouble. I'll merely bring Watson with me instead."

I shook my head, brushing his hand away. "Don't even think about it. Much as I love Watson, robots can't do everything, and this case is hitting rather too close to home for him. Besides, when have I ever listened to the Chief Inspector? He should be used to me breaking the rules by now. You can't get rid of me that easily, I'm not about to let you have all the fun" He only nodded in response, but secretly I thought He looked relieved.

"Then I will see you here at 1 tonight." Suddenly his poker face broke into a huge grin, "Of course, the chief did say he thought that we could use some practice in partner work. What better way to practice a 'healthy partnership' "

"Than breaking the law?" I finished for him, laughing, "Somehow I don't think Grayson will agree with you. See you tonight. I'm going to bed. You should too" I said significantly. He bowed slightly, but his eyes glinted with excitement and merriment. _He's not getting any sleep tonight. _I thought, and headed out the door, leaving Holmes staring at the fire with his pipe between his teeth. I could almost see imaginary smoke swirling around his head.

I left Baker Street and headed home, planning an early dinner for myself, a sappy movie, and then bed. _I'm not going to break into the Biodome on 2 hours of sleep. _

_A/N: REVIEW! If you do you'll be rewarded with cookies...or should I say biscuits?_


	6. Breaking and Exiting

_You've made it through the information chapters. Now for some action! You know the drill, if you read it, review it!_

Chapter 6: Breaking and Exiting

When I met Holmes that night, I felt less sure about the whole thing. I hadn't gotten any sleep, worrying instead about the consequences of getting caught. I felt jumpy and agitated and it annoyed me. When the hovercar stopped outside the darkened Biodome, I wasn't in the best of moods. Holmes, however, seemed to be in heaven. We disembarked from the hovercar after Holmes had hidden it in an alleyway. He approached a side door with confidence. I followed a few steps behind, my apprehension growing.

"Holmes, do have any idea how illegal this is?" He snorted at me and turned his attention to the keypad beside the door. From a pouch at his waist he pulled out a small screw driver, using this to remove the keypad's cover exposing the network of wires inside. Delicately, he pulled out a blue and a red wire, prodding the connections carefully with the screw driver.

"You're going to electrocute yourself, Holmes." I whispered fiercely. _Stupid man, what is he trying to prove? _He ignored me and continued with his work. A well placed wire shorted out the entire security system with relative ease and soon he stood with the door open and a mischievous grin on his face.

"Of course you do not have to come, Lestrade, if you deem it too irregular."

"Don't be ridiculous, Holmes, of course I'm coming. Just don't expect me to bail you out when you get arrested."

"If I get arrested it is highly likely that you, also, will be arrested, so your threat seems rather pointless."

"Well, we'll just have to hope that this goes off without a hitch, then."

"Indeed." He moved silently in through the open door. _That's it. _I thought, _this is now a felony._ I shrugged and followed him in thinking _I can't believe I let him talk me into this. I can't believe I fell for it._

I followed Holmes down a series of dark corridors. _Zedding voice-controlled lights, why does nothing ever work?_ But then, we had disabled the security system, so it wasn't surprising that the lights were malfunctioning. The darkness didn't seem to faze Holmes, however. He moved through the labyrinth of corridors as if it were Baker Street. _He must have looked at a floor plan before we came. Man, I would kill for his night vision! _I thought bitterly. Instead I followed him blindly, hoping we didn't accidentally end up in the wrong room. It would be very difficult to explain our presence to the police that I knew patrolled the area. I tried to ignore the visions I had of the two of us being hauled off by Scotland Yard Compudroids.

As soon as we entered into the main lab, however, thoughts of being put behind bars vanished from my mind. "It looks like a tornado went through" I said, shocked. Holmes nodded wordlessly and descended the iron spiral staircase into the chaos that had once been the center of biochemical engineering for the entire western hemisphere.

The room was completely unrecognizable. Lab tables were overturned, expensive equipment lay in pieces on the floor, along with shattered bottles of various important-looking liquids. Shelves of files and jars of scary once-alive things had been knocked over and tubes, pipes, and wires that supplied energy to the larger computers and vacuum test areas hung from the ceiling like vines in some strange tropical jungle. "What a mess," I said, rather superfluously.

"That is quite an understatement." Holmes chuckled as he poked through the remains of a jar of something that looked suspiciously like the bright green radioactive goop that turned people into zombies on Saturday morning cartoon shows.

"Why would someone destroy the lab like this?" I wondered out loud.

"Why indeed." Holmes muttered. "Perhaps…" He turned to the bank of computers that formed a circle around the largest vacuum test area in the centre of the room. He examined the computers, shattered glass, and the contents of one of the shelves carefully with his magnifying glass, uttering a few "hmmmms" and "Interestings" and even a couple "Ah Ha!'s", crawling around on the floor in the mess of glass and (probably toxic) liquids, investigating in his normal sporadic manner.

Finally he jumped up from examining something that looked like it had once been a microscope saying, "This room has told us all it can. Come Lestrade." He began to stride purposefully toward the door, ignoring the crunch of glass under his boots.

"Wait, Holmes, what have you found out? Shouldn't we alert New Scotland Yard? Holmes, WAIT UP!" With an exasperated sigh I followed after the fast retreating back of the detective, grumbling about always being left in the dark (in this case literally) as I entered into the pitch black corridors, completely at a loss as to which way Holmes had gone.

"Here Lestrade." Out of nowhere his hand grabbed my wrist and I felt myself being lead through the building towards the exit.

"Zed, Holmes, don't sneak up on me like that. One of these days I might accidentally shoot you with my ionizer thinking you're a criminal."

"Nonsense, Lestrade, use your eyes and brains and you won't be caught by surprise." Suddenly, he froze in the middle of the hallway. I ran into him, my reaction time slowed by the crippling darkness.

"What is it, Holmes?"

"Shhh! Use your ears." I strained my ears to hear what he did, but I could hear nothing but the hum of distant machinery somewhere in the upper reaches of the building. Then, I discerned an odd sound. It was a light shuffling noise, like socks on linoleum, so soft it could barely be heard above the constant hum of machinery. "We are not alone." Holmes whispered ominously into my ear. I took out my ionizer and held it in front of me, standing close to his body, hoping to rely on his night vision. I heard a soft click, the sound of his cane extending from its compact storage size. Holmes had armed himself as well. At that moment, a familiar voice broke the silence.

"Why, Mr. Holmes, Inspector Lestrade, what a pleasant surprise! I rather hoped that you would show up, and as you see, my wish has come true. It is indeed a pleasure."

"Oh shut it, Moriarty. You're under arrest!" I pointed my ionizer towards the sound of his voice, set it to stun, and fired. A bright flash lit the corridor for the briefest of moments followed by low laughter.

"You'll have to do better than that, inspector. Argh!" I felt in front of me where Holmes had been before. There was now only empty space, he had left my side. The sounds of a struggle told me he had snuck up on Moriarty while I had the villain's attention. It was disconcerting not being able to see them fighting. I followed the progress of the battle by the sounds of bodies hitting the floor and the walls with the occasional cry or grunt from the participants.

Then a thought struck me. Lights! If I could find a way to turn on the lights, the brightness might momentarily blind Moriarty, giving me time to subdue him _if you aren't blind yourself_. Oh well, it was risky but worth a try. I felt along the walls trying to find my way to the exit. If I could enable the security system again, the lights might come back on.

We had been close to the entrance and it did not take me long to find the door and the security wires Holmes had tampered with. The whole thing seemed to be a tangle of red and blue wires. _Which ones did Holmes pull out and reconnect? _I thought, trying desperately to remember what he had done while the sounds of the struggle behind me became louder and more earnest.

A loud clatter alerted me that Holmes had dropped his cane. I heard him gasp and Moriarty laughed menacingly. "I have you now, Holmes!" There was a loud crash, like the sound of a body being thrown full force against the wall and Holmes cried out in pain. In a panic I took a wire out and reconnected it in another place. With a piercing whine, the security system came on again along with the lights.

I pulled my ionizer out and ran back into the hallway, blinking at the bright light that now illuminated the space. "Freeze, Moriarty, the game is up!" But my words echoed hollowly off the walls, the hallway was empty!


	7. Kidnapped!

Chapter 7: Kidnapped!

Holmes came to slowly, like a drowning man swimming to the surface. He became aware of aches in his body, especially his ribs _At least one broken rib,_ he thought,_ perfect. _Awareness of the noises of his surroundings came next. There was an odd metallic clanking coming from somewhere above him and a high-pitched whirring sound coming from the right-hand side of the room. _So I am no longer in the biodome_. Finally, he was able to force his eyes open, completely regaining consciousness. The room was dark and he could barely make out the forms of old boxes surrounding him. In the right-hand corner stood a large machine, the source of the whirring noise. He could not make out anything above him that would cause the metallic clanking sound. Either it was too dark to see or it was actually coming from the room above. _I must be in a basement of sorts_. He thought, and tried to stretch his aching body.

It was then he noticed that he was tied. Strong cords wrapped around his chest, tying him to the back of the chair. When he tried to move his arms and legs he found that these, too, were tied, both together and to the chair, making any form of movement impossible. He could only turn his head from side to side in an effort to find clues in the darkness, not that he needed clues to tell him who had done this.

He strained against the bonds, trying to loosen the ties that bound his hands. _If I can only get my hands free, I shall be able to untie the rest._ A voice from somewhere above stopped him.

"No use struggling, Holmes, the cords that bind you are made of an alloy infusion, titanium and plastic, both strong and flexible. You cannot cut it and it will not come untied, so do not waste your energy."

"I am disappointed Moriarty, I expected something more creative from you. Villains have been tying captives up in basements of warehouses for centuries."

"Why try to re-invent the wheel, Holmes? If it worked for Al Capone, it's good enough for me. You think I keep you here for my own amusement?"

"Can a selfish, arrogant man such as yourself need any other reason?"

Moriarty clenched his fists and Holmes could hear his teeth grate together. _Good. Anger will cloud his judgment. There may be hope yet._

"Careful, Holmes. You tread a very fine line. Yes, I shall enjoy having you in my power," he chuckled to himself manically and Holmes felt his blood run cold. "But that is not the only reason you are here. I pride myself on the fact that I underestimate no one. You have become too great a threat to me, so I have decided to keep an eye on you until my plans are complete."

"Your _plan_ is clumsy and will fail. Do you honestly think you can create an army of robots large enough to defeat the New London military? Your robots won't know what hit them."

"Despite all your cleverness, Holmes, you have no idea what I'm doing. You are trying to goad me into revealing my plans, but I will not take the bait. I believe its time for another nap, my dear Sherlock." Moriarty snapped his fingers and Fenwick appeared in the doorway behind him, carrying an oblong box.

"A powerful tranquilizer. It should keep you out of my way for a few hours. Haha!" Moriarty left through the door, leaving Fenwick to administer the tranquilizer.

Fenwick came down the stairs and into the room quickly, taking out a syringe from the box as he went. Holmes tried desperately to loosen the bond enough to be able to fight off Fenwick, but Fenwick merely laughed at him.

"No escape for you now, detective slime. It is time for your nap." The syringe was full of an amber liquid and a part of Holmes' brain reviewed his knowledge of tranquilizers to figure out what he was about to be injected with.

Fenwick grabbed his right arm, tied to the chair behind his back. Holmes felt the prick of the needle. His arm tingled and suddenly felt very heavy. Fenwick stood up in front of him slowly, laughing. He observed Holmes's face silently for a moment as Holmes fought the tingling sensations that had spread to his legs and chest. He was having difficulty holding his head upright.

He felt Fenwick pat him on the head as darkness overtook him. "Sleep well, Sherlock Holmes."

Part II

"So they just disappeared?"

"There were traces of the struggle, a dent on the wall, scuffs on the floor, some broken glass, but no signs of anyone leaving. No blood traces on the floor or near any of the doors. Nothing."

I sat in an armchair in 221B with my head in my hands. Watson stood by the fireplace, clanking his various parts together and looking concerned and agitated. I suppose we were both concerned and agitated. _If Holmes were here he would know exactly what to do, _I thought. But then, if Holmes were here, we wouldn't be in this mess to begin with.

"Think, Lestrade, were there any signs that they may have escaped by another route than the front door? A back entrance?"

"All the other doors were locked with no signs of tampering. They just disappeared into thin air."

"Even in this advanced age that is impossible. Are you sure you didn't overlook something?"

"Of course I'm not sure! Sherlock Holmes disappears into thin air and you expect me to be calm and rational? It was all I could do to keep from panicking. I'm not a machine or even a person that thinks like one. All I could think of was _where the zed is Holmes."_

"I understand my dear. I am as anxious to know what happened as you are. It disturbs me that they have vanished so completely. I suppose I am an over-zealous detective. In the course of my investigation I have neglected my client."

"Oh its all right. This whole business has me shaken. We'll work through it together. On the bright side, there was no blood on the floor, so he can't have been badly hurt in the struggle." _Or killed _a small voice inside my brain said. _Oh god, please don't let him be dead. Again._

Watson merely nodded a mute agreement and the room lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. After a minute or two, Watson spoke

"Perhaps we should alert Scotland Yard and the irregulars.

"It will be difficult to explain our presence in the biodome to Scotland Yard. And I'm not sure the chief would care very much if Holmes did go missing." I took up a wide-legged stance, imitating chief inspector Greyson's voice, "You mean that deceased detective has gone missing? Well that's great news! Get out of my office asa-immediately, Lestrade, this calls for a celebration."

Watson laughed. "Well, perhaps informing the chief inspector wouldn't be a wise course of action. But the irregulars will surely want to know."

"I think it can wait until morning, Watson. I'm exhausted. It'll be easier to solve this after a full night's sleep, or as close to it as possible." It was almost 4:30 am by that time and I felt like I had been up for a week.

"You do look tired, Lestrade. Yes I believe a few hours of sleep will be extremely profitable. Would you like to take Holmes' room for the night."

"Holmes' room?"

"Well he won't be needing his bed tonight, and perhaps you'd be more safe staying here where I can keep an eye on you."

The argument certainly made sense, but a part of my brain refused it. Somehow sleeping in Holmes' bed seemed like a violation of his privacy. It was an awfully long drive home, though. I was tired and Watson was right, it would be more safe to stay at Baker Street. Exhaustion and prudence won the internal battle.

"Yes, alright. I'll stay here for the night. In the morning we'll call the irregulars first thing."

Watson nodded and moved brusquely to Holmes' bedroom, clearing some clothing from the floor and changing the sheets. I followed him and stood in the doorway hesitating. "There you are," he said when he had finished. "Sleep well."

Watson left, closing the bedroom door behind him. I realized suddenly, as I stood there, that I had never been in Holmes' room before. It looked exactly the way I imagined it. Every surface was covered with papers and mementoes from his cases, though the floor and bed were immaculately clean (this was probably more Watson's influence than anything else). The walls were covered with pictures of famous criminals both from Holmes' past life and his present one. I found among them several whose faces I recognized. There were several pictures from the Yard's most wanted list, as well as an old photo of Colonel Moran, a tiger hunter who's use of an air rifle had made him very dangerous in Holmes' past life. In the centre of the wall were two photos of Professor Moriarty, Holmes' arch nemesis in both lives.

I removed my shoes and laid down in the bed. The pillow smelled very faintly like pipe tobacco and I wondered if Holmes had been sneaking smokes. I drifted off to sleep with the image of Holmes bent over a pipe in his bedroom, concealing the smoke from Watson. _Perhaps_ my half-asleep brain thought _you'll wake up and he'll be here demanding to know why you're asleep in his bed._


	8. Revelations

_Wow this story is getting long! Stick with me and if we're lucky, I'll finish this before I start work. I hope this chapter isn't too confusing. If the deductions aren't clear enough, let me know. Thanks for all the great feedback. As always, review, review, review!_

Chapter 8: Revelations_  
_

It was nearly afternoon by the time I was up, presentable, and eating Watson's expertly prepared breakfast with Tennyson, Wiggins, and Deidre. Holmes' absence was impossible to avoid, his chair at the table was empty and no place had been set for him. The Stradivarius had actually been put away in its case and the whole room seemed oddly neat without the mess of newspapers and mail that he usually scattered around in the morning. Strange how empty the flat seemed without Holmes in it. _Pull yourself together, you have work to do,_ I told myself forcefully. I pushed my brunch around my plate, not really hungry and broke the oppressive quiet that had descended on the room.

"I think we have to go back to the biodome and inspect that hallway. We've got to know how Moriarty and Holmes got out if we want to know where they are now."

"So you think Moriarty has Holmes?" Wiggins asked.

I sighed. "I don't know what I think. They just disappeared into thin air. It's possible that Holmes followed Moriarty out of the building. But, then, if he were tracking Moriarty he'd send some notice to let us know where he was and what he was up to. I haven't heard anything from him since he disappeared."

"Holmes would say not to theorize without data." Tennyson pointed out.

"Which is exactly why we need to go back to the Biodome. I have permission from Chief Greyson to investigate the building. You all are coming with me."

"You sure that's wise, inspector?" Wiggins looked dubiously at the warrant sitting on the table.

"Nope. Probably not wise at all, but I need more pairs of eyes there with me. Look, guys, we've got a problem. Holmes' disappearance is serious, but it's not the only mystery on our plate right now. We've got to find out whether Moriarty has Sir Robert and the data disks and what he plans to do with that information. I think it's also likely that Moriarty was the money behind the smugglers and their cargo of robot brains. He was probably also the force behind their escape. The only problem is I can't create a complete picture of the crime from that information yet." _And without Holmes, I don't know if I can,_ I added to myself mentally.

"The question is: what would Moriarty do with a catalogue of human DNA and proteins, a biochemical engineer, and robot brains?" Deidre said as she finished off the rest of her eggs. The room lapsed into speculative silence. _Robots with sophisticated brains. Human DNA. A biochemical engineer to do the work. Robots with human DNA?_ Something about the main lab back at the biodome nagged at the back of my mind. There was something wrong with it. The more I tried to bring the thought forward, however, the more elusive it became. _I need to go back._

An hour later, all three irregulars, Watson, and I stood in entrance to the Biodome where Holmes had disappeared only the night before. "Tennyson, check all the doors and their keypads for signs of tampering." He nodded and turned to the keypad next to him. Almost immediately he began to beep excitedly. "No, not this door. Moriarty couldn't have gotten through it I was standing in it. I made those marks." Abashed, Tennyson turned and buzzed over to the next door to begin his investigations.

"Wiggins and Deidre, inspect the hall as closely as you can. Anything that looks even slightly out of place, take note. Take lots of pictures. Watson, you can come with me." I was already hallway down the hall by the time I had listed off all my commands. Behind me, Wiggins and Deidre were going over the walls, floor, and ceiling with the proverbial fine-toothed comb. _If there's anything to find, they'll find it_, I reflected. Holmes often joked that Deidre, Wiggins, and Tennyson between them could accomplish more in ten minutes than a fleet of yardies couldin a week, an embarrassing but distressingly true fact, I was forced to admit.

"Where are we going?" Watson asked. He was practically jogging to keep up and his metallic joints clanked noisily. I slowed the pace, listening to the noise level suddenly decrease.

"We're going to investigate the Main Lab. There's something there that will shed light on the disappearance of the biochemical engineer."

The lab looked exactly as it had the night before. A slight smell of decay hung in the room and I wondered if the gooey green substance on the floor had begun to go bad.

"Good lord, what a mess." Watson remarked

"Quite a scene, isn't it? We'd better solve this case soon, or the lab will be overrun with bugs." Watson merely nodded mutely.

"What are we looking for?"

"Any thing out of place." Looking around the room I realized that wouldn't help us, everything was out of place. "Well, anything that doesn't make sense. To tell you the truth, I don't know what we're looking for," I ended lamely and made up for it by wading bravely into the stinking mess.

I tried to look all around the room and take in the scene methodically. There was almost too much destruction. It didn't seem possible that one man, and an elderly scientist at that, could put up enough of a fight to overturn every single lab table, breaking practically every glass jar in the room. And how did the wires and tubes connected to the vacuum test areas and computers come unplugged? There was no possible way a man on the ground could pull those wires out, they hung from the ceiling. Standing on a chair I tried to reach one of the large metal tubes that swayed near the largest vacuum test area. But even on my toes, I was unable to so much as brush it with my fingers.

Holmes had paid special attention to the central bank of computers and the floor near the left hand wall, and so I too got on my hands and knees, trying to avoid anything that looked like it might have, at one point, been alive. A careful search had come up with nothing, and Watson, at the other end of the room didn't seem to be having much luck either, so I decided it was time to give up before I came down with some tropical disease and prepared to get up off the floor. In the process, the answer literally jumped up and bit me in the face. Well, actually I slipped in something and fell on it, but it amounted to the same thing.

I sat up, feeling blood begin to ooze out of a new cut on my cheek, cursing, I searched the floor for the culprit, trying to remember if I had updated my tetanus shot recently. A large piece of plaster jutted up among the shards of glass and I picked it up. There was a trace of blood on it from where I had cut myself, but also traces of something more interesting, black scorch marks covered the plaster. There were other similar pieces in the area scattered all over the floor close to the main computer consul.

"Watson, come look at this." He bustled over and began to fuss over the cut on my cheek, but I pushed him away irritably.

"No, ignore that for now, look at the plaster on the floor here. It's covered in scorch marks, it looks like someone had a hovercar in here."

Watson examined the piece of plaster I handed him and looked up to the ceiling. Unfortunately, the nearest wall was dominated by a large fan and there was very little plaster, chipped or otherwise. "I see no evidence of where it came from. What do you make of it Lestrade?"

I jumped to my feet and ran back out to the hallway, ignoring the crunch of glass under my boots. I came to a skidding halt directly in front of Wiggins and demanded, "Tell me about the ceiling." Holmes himself couldn't have made a more dramatically confusing entrance.

Wiggins stammered for a few moments in shock and Deidre elbowed him out of the way, showing me a picture from her camera excitedly, "Look what we found, inspector, scorch marks on the wall."

"Tennyson!" I shouted. A few moments later he appeared in the doorway down the hall. "Any of the doors been tampered with?"

"Well, none of the doors have been tampered with, but there's a large air vent that with a cover that's been removed."

"Show me." We all trouped out and followed Tennyson around the building. The fan that dominated the wall of the lab where I'd found the plaster pieces was mounted on the back wall of the building, and connected directly to the outside air. It served to extract fumes out of the main lab when scientists performed chemical experiments that couldn't be contained within the vacuum chambers. The fan itself was still in place, but a few screws had been removed and had fallen to the grass below. Tennyson flew his hoverchair up to the fan, demonstrating how it could be pushed aside like a door to create an entrance into the main lab. The subsequent entryway was large enough to allow a small hovercar to pass through. Sure enough, Tennyson found traces of paint on the metal hole in the wall. A bit of plaster had been knocked out in a corner of the inside wall.

"Well now we know how Moriarty escaped with Holmes so quickly." I commented when Tennyson had joined us again.

"By hovercar through the vent." Wiggins answered.

I nodded and began to explain the scenario ticking off each step on my fingers. "First he unscrewed the fan, bringing his car into the main lab itself, he then captured Sir Robert and destroyed the main lab using the car. We don't know what he did with Sir Robert. He probably left the building for the police to find, then came back at night, expecting Holmes to come investigate. He probably kept watch and flew his hovercar into the lab when we left it, then attacked us in the hallway. He captured Holmes, and used the Hovercar to make a quick getaway."

"Wouldn't you have heard the car, though?" Watson wondered

"With the alarms from the security system going off, I wouldn't have heard a thing." I answered.

"So we still don't know where Holmes is."

"No, but we do know that the lab was destroyed as a decoy. The only thing Moriarty needed was Sir Robert and the data disks he carried with him."

_Robots with human DNA_. I thought, remembering the conversation over breakfast. _Moriarty wants to build something with a robot's brains and human DNA. _It sounded crazy and I nearly rejected the notion when suddenly I imagined a smug British voice say _when you have excluded the impossible whatever remains, however improbable must be the truth._

"Well it's improbable, all right." I said out loud.

"What is?" Wiggins asked, and I realized everyone was staring at me.

"I think I know what Moriarty is doing. He's building an army of robots using genetically controlled DNA. Between the sophisticated robotic parts he's stolen and the human DNA he has access to, Moriarty could create an army with a robot's invincibility and a human's intelligence, superior to both robotic and human armies."

"Sounds like he's trying to take over the world." Deidre said.

"But, wait, that doesn't make sense. Why would he want the electronic brains the smugglers had?" Tennyson wondered

I thought back to the mess in the lab. Allowing his operatives to get caught was a mistake Moriarty didn't often make. Furthermore, the smugglers had then escaped from high security prison a few days later, yet no attempt had been made to capture the electronic brains. Why?

"A Decoy," I said in answer to both questions. "Moriarty didn't need those brains, he set the smugglers as bait in order to get Holmes on the case so that he could lure him the biodome and ambush him."

"So he has exactly what he wanted: Holmes, and everything he needs to create an army. Is it hopeless, then?" Watson spoke in a whisper, as if he were afraid that someone would hear we had failed.

_Failed? Wait a second, there's still a world, and as far as we know Holmes is still alive. We haven't failed yet! _ "It's not over till its over." I said grimly. "We can still stop Moriarty, we just have to find him." _Easier said than done_ the pessimistic voice inside my head whispered, but I ignored it, turning my full attention to the problem at hand.


End file.
